


25 Days Has September - Solitude

by Davechicken



Series: 25 Days Has September [4]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Angst Warning, Gen, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 15:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>25 prompts for 25 days of September until Season 2</p>
            </blockquote>





	25 Days Has September - Solitude

Nora lies on the bed - their bed - and stares up at the cobwebs in the corner of the ceiling. One of those things they meant to get around to doing. One of those things. 

Her eyes are dry, because she just feels... nothing. Nothing whatsoever. Numb. In her head she knows she should feel things. She knows she should feel rage. She knows she should feel disappointment. She knows she should feel betrayed. But knowing and feeling are two different things.

Instead she lies here, anaesthetised. One arm is propped under her head, and the other she rests on her stomach. She shouldn't do it. She knows she shouldn't do it. She shouldn't put her hand there. She should touch anywhere but there.

A few weeks ago they had lain here together. Frank had been curled up against her - his chin on her shoulder. And their hands had clasped together over her slightly swollen belly. They had lain here feeling the first, faint kicks of the life slowly growing inside her. Their child. Their son. And everything had been wonderful. Everything.

But even here Monroe's blackened, filthy reach poisons everything. Not content with the pain he's already caused, his Militia... those... the men who... the men...

The start of anger curls somewhere deep inside, but only for an instant before the feeling gets too much and vanishes into nothingness again.

Her hand strokes slowly over her now-empty belly. No kicks. No life. Nothing.

In the other room, Frank is busying himself with anything he can think of. She knows it won't be long, now. Knows because from the minute she dragged the man off him and gave as good as she got that he saw a side to her he didn't like. A side to her _she_ doesn't like. The side that made her a good bounty hunter. A good coup-stager. A good killer. The side she tried to leave behind when she finally left Miles to drink himself to death.

She wanted to settle. Wanted to be normal. Wanted a life. A family. A home.

But no. Even here, Monroe has to rob this from her. Has to carry on ruining her life. It might be weeks and it might be days before Frank gets the courage to leave, and it's only from his pity for her pain that he's still here. It's no longer a relationship. He's staying to assuage his guilt. But he won't ever look at her without seeing her as the woman who killed their son.

And maybe that's fair. Maybe it is all her fault. Maybe she's good for nothing but killing.

Well, then. When he's finished his self-imposed purgatory... she will just have to go back to killing.

At least one more time.


End file.
